The Demon Dead

by Arthur M Wyatt

  “Yeah, whatever Tonto. Now what?”

  “There’s an Auto parts store over there.” John said pointing at the store two blocks down and across the street. “We go there and get a new one.”

  “Great. Walk? On foot?” she said. “In Indian country?”

  “You got it,” John said closing the hood, grabbing the shotgun and crow bar from the truck and heading for the street. “Coming with me or staying?”

  “Yeah, like I’m staying here by myself,” Amy said taking the rifle from the cab and locking the door. “Lets go, somebody has to watch your back.”

  “Like I said…,” John said and headed off toward the auto parts store.

  They walked to the store in a light drizzle. They saw no more zombies along the way. The interior and exterior of the store were intact. At the door John pushed hard but it wouldn’t budge. He took the hammer from his belt and was about to bust the window when Amy stepped up to the door and pulled. It swung open easily.

  “Well, what do you know,” she said holding the door open. “After you kimosabe. And next time try pulling like the sign on the door says. P,U,L,L. Pull.”

  Inside the store John saw that the key was still in the door and locked it from the inside.

  “Now all we have to do is find the parts,” he said. “We need a cap and rotor. Oh, and some WD 40.”

  “You look. I guard,” Amy said in a low gravelly voice and laughed.

  John searched the shelves until he located the distributor caps. He opened box after box until he finally found a match.

  “It’s always in the last place you look,” he said.

  “Not the last place,” Amy said. “There are still a few you didn’t open.”

  “Right,” John said. “Now to find the rotor.”

  “Here,” Amy said pointing to a stack of boxes.

  “How do you know what a rotor is,” John asked.

  “I don’t,” she said grinning. “But, here, printed on the box it says; r, o, t, o, r. Rotor. See, that’s two words you learned to spell today. Pull and rotor. ”

  “Smart ass,” John said looking through the boxes.

  He found the one they needed quickly and headed for the front of the store. He was about to unlock the door when he looked over at the hotel and saw that their truck was surrounded by a mob of zombies.

  “Holy shit,” he said, “we’re screwed.”

  Amy’s jaw dropped as she started counting. “Oh my God,” she said, “Eleven.”

  “We can’t just run out of here guns blazing,” John said. “We have to repair the truck before we can leave.”

  “It’s going to be dark soon John. What are we going to do?”

  “We’re stuck here. Lets see if we can find the office. Maybe we can stay there until they leave or until morning.”

  “We don’t have any food or water and I’m hungry.”

  “Wrong,” John said pointing to the counter. “All the chips and candy bars you want. And, water and soda over there.”

  “Can you tell I don’t go to Auto parts stores very often? Those are the last things I would expect to find here.”

  John looked back at the truck off in the distance while Amy gathered water bottles and candy bars. The zombies were still loitering around and didn’t look like they would be leaving any time soon.

  “Lets hope there are no demons nearby,” John said turning away from the window.

  They went back behind the counter and to the back of the store. The office was near the bathroom. It was large and had a couch on one wall, a desk with a plush office chair and a small refrigerator. There was a small window on the outside wall. John pulled the curtain closed plunging the room into darkness.

  “Home sweet home,” Amy said plopping down on the couch. “Sit. Eat. Food good.”

  John laughed and sat down beside her. “How long you going to keep this Tonto thing going?’

  “I’m through,” she said, “for now.”

  They sat in what little light came through the window and ate. After thirty minutes John stood and walked to the front of the store but it was too dark to see anything outside. He had no way of knowing if the zombies had left or not.

  Returning to the office he shut the door and locked it. “I can’t see anything outside. It’s too dark. We may as well settle in for the night. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

  “I’m cold,” Amy said shivering.

  John opened a cabinet and found a fleece blanket that smelled of motor oil.

  “This is all we have,” he said handing it to her.

  “Sit,” she ordered him. “The only way we’re going to stay warm is to share this.”

  John sat down beside her on the couch. They wrapped their arms around each other and covered themselves as best they could with the blanket. John felt an uneasy, albeit pleasant, feeling inside from being so close to Amy but forced himself to think of other things. Amy fell asleep quickly. John followed soon after. Several times during the night John woke to the sounds of shuffling footsteps outside the office window. At one point someone or something stopped at the window. He could hear sniffing sounds. Whatever it was must have picked up on their scent. After a couple of minutes it stopped and continued on it’s way. He lay still listening as it shuffled off into the night. There was far more zombie activity in this area than they had seen on the interstate coming down.

  They slept until the sun rose.

  SEVEN - DAY FIVE: "THE DEMON"

  John reached up with his foot and pushed the curtain back to reveal a rapidly brightening sky with no clouds. The rain had moved out during the night.

  He shook Amy awake. She moaned in his ear sending a shiver up his spine then opened her eyes.

  “Good morning,” she said weakly.

  John sat up and rubbed his forehead feeling groggy. “We must have slept twelve hours,” he said.

  Amy began to sing. “Yes.. and don’t it feel great,” she sang sitting up beside him.”

  John looked at her with a blank stare.

  “It’s a song. You know, the eighties?” She said then paused for a second. “Party pooper...”

  They each ate another candy bar for breakfast then walked to the front of the store. There were still five zombies at the truck.

  “Well,” John said. “They’re not all gone but at least it’s a more manageable number now.”

  “And this guy,” Amy said pointing to the gomer from the day before. “He found us.”

  In front of the door stood the homeless man’s zombie. He looked at them and grunted.

  “Go away,” Amy said.

  It grunted again then started tapping on the window.

  “No no no, don’t do that,” Amy said rushing to the window, “shoo, Leave.”

  “Too late,” John said, “he already has their attention.”

  Amy looked over to see the zombies at the truck turning and heading in their direction. The gomer heard their growls and turned to look too. He quickly gathered up his cart and high stepped off in the other direction.

  “That’s one weird dude,” Amy said. “I mean for a zombie anyway.”

  Even though the situation was tenuous John couldn’t help but to laugh.

  “What’s so funny,” Amy asked.

  “Nothing,” he said smiling. “You’re right. He’s a weird dude. A weird zombie dude.”

  Amy scowled at him. “Ok genius. How do we get out of this?”

  “Here, hold this,” he said handing her the bag with the cap and rotor. “Be ready to run when I say.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Just watch.”

  By this time the zombies were one block away. John unlocked the door, stepped outside and sat down on the ground in a sitting position. He raised the rifle and braced it on his knees. Amy stood beside him holding the shotgun and the parts.

  John sighted in on the first one and fired. It jerked to the left then fell over backwards knocking the one behind down also. John worked th
e bolt and fired at the one on the ground. Direct hit. The zombie’s head exploded.

  “Two down, three to go,” he said chambering another round.

  The gun barked again, then again and finally there was only one standing.

  John stood and handed the rifle to Amy.

  “Let’s go,” he shouted and headed out at a trot.

  “John, what about the last one for God’s sake.”

  John looked back and smiled as he took the 9mm from his waistband. He jogged right up in front of the last zombie, stopped, and raised the handgun just as it tried to lunge for him. He fired two rounds into its face and a third into the back of its head before it hit the ground. The zombie crumpled to the ground its head now no more than a mangled mass of blood brains and bone. John kicked it in the ribs as he passed.

  Amy followed, shocked by the sudden outburst from John.

  “One shot from the rifle, at a distance, would have done just fine you know,” she shouted as she ran to keep up.

  John slowed down to let her catch up and took the auto parts and the rifle from her.

  “Just blowing off some steam,” he explained, “that’s all.”

  “I understand completely,” she said.

  “And don’t it feel great?” John sang looking back at Amy with a grin.

  Amy laughed. “Now you get it…”

  “You’re going to have to stand watch while I do this.” John said. “We know there are at least six more around here somewhere.”

  They reached the truck out of breath. John unlocked the door, reached in and pulled the latch then opened the hood. He pulled the WD 40 from the bag and sprayed it in the top of the distributor. Then he replaced the rotor. He fumbled with the cap trying to work quickly and also make sure he replaced the wires properly.

  Amy stood with the shotgun at her hip. Ready to raise it if needed. Swinging her head to the other side she saw the other zombies coming.

  “John, we have more company,” she said gesturing at a group of three zombies.

  They were coming from the direction of the auto parts store. Still over a hundred yards away.

  John looked up to see them heading for the truck. He figured he had only a couple of minutes to finish the job.

  “John. John!”

  “I see them.”

  John worked frantically at the cap. He finally had all the wires replaced when he heard a blood-curdling scream. He turned in the direction of the scream to see the gomer on the ground with a zombie on top of him ripping him to shreds. The gomer fought for it’s undead life. Thrashing and trying to buck the demon off. John replaced the cap and clamped it down.

  “Get in and try it. Hurry,” he ordered Amy, “I’ll take care of the demon.”

  John grabbed the rifle as Amy jumped in the truck and turned the key. The engine roared to life. John slammed the hood down and took a bead on the demon. The bullet left the barrel and struck the demon in the side of the head, sending it tumbling off the gomer.

  “Got it,” John said looking back at Amy.

  No sooner had he said that when he heard another scream and spun around to see one of the other three zombies leap forward and charge, leaving the other two in it's dust.

  “Shit!” he said as he pulled the bolt back and slammed it forward.

  “Shoot it,” Amy screamed

  John fired. This time hitting it in the torso. The zombie jerked but kept coming.

  “The shotgun,” John shouted.

  Amy jumped from the truck and tossed him the shotgun. John laid the rifle on the hood of the truck and started toward the zombie who by now was only fifty yards away.

  John raised the shotgun to his shoulder and fired. Pumped and fired again. The zombie stumbled and fell to the ground. John stepped forward, just ten feet from the monster, pumped another shell into the chamber and fired again. It fell over backwards. John pumped one more time but the shotgun was empty.

  He stepped around the zombie, pulled the pistol out and quickly dispatched the last two zombies who by now were only a few feet away. They fell to the ground in a heap. Their brains destroyed by the 9mm rounds.

  He walked back to where the first one lay and spat on it. It startled John when it raised its head and glared at him. He fired two more rounds from the handgun shattering it’s head.

  John walked back to the truck where Amy was waiting. She took the shotgun and started reloading it.

  “How the hell did we not notice that one of those was a demon? Damn it!”

  “I don’t know. What about him?” Amy said nodding in the direction of the gomer who was lying in the street moaning.

  “I guess we should end it for him. If he could speak he would probably ask us to.”

  John walked over to where the gomer lay and knelt down. Their eyes met. The moaning stopped. John put the pistol close to the gomer's head then hesitated for a moment. The gomer seemed to nod as if to give John the ok to proceed. Even though he thought it was probably only a coincidence, he pulled the trigger and forced the thought from his mind.

  The gomer’s head jerked back against the pavement and fell over to the side. John watched as the puddle of blood the zombie lay in grew larger. He said a quick prayer for whoever this man had been and headed back to the truck.

  “You ok?” Amy asked.

  “Get in,” was his only response.

  “John…”

  “I’m fine Amy. It’s just…we’re so close to home. I have a bad feeling I can’t shake.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you John,” Amy said placing her hand on his leg, “all we can do is keep going and hope for a miracle.”

  “Right…a miracle.”

  They headed back out to the Highway and toward town. As they passed on the raised roadway just on the edge of the city they could see few signs of life below. They spotted a couple of wandering figures but determined they were just regular zombies. Lost in the city.

  "Where are the survivors?" Amy commented.

  John didn't answer.

  They made their way over the bridge, passing by the large aircraft carrier sitting in the water to the right at Patriots Point, then dropped down to the road on the other side.

  “We’re here,” John said, “home.”

  They traveled a few more miles before turning left into a nice middle class neighborhood. There were bodies in the street. They went three blocks then slowed to a crawl.

  The truck turned onto John’s street slowly inching down the road trying to avoid several bloated bodies lying in their path. As he neared his house, John could see that the front door had been busted in and the windows were broken. He could see bodies on the porch. His heart sank.

  Stopping in front he told Amy to stay with the truck while he went inside to check it out.

  “No way, we go together,” she said. “Someone has to watch your back, seeing how you’re not very good at it,” she grinned.

  “Funny,” John retorted.

  “Sorry John, just trying to lighten the mood some,” she said grabbing the rifle.

  “I know, it’s just that this isn’t the time for it ok,” he answered.

  The street was quiet as they walked down the sidewalk leading to the front porch. The only sound that of broken glass crunching under their feet. John stopped to look around. Normally on a Saturday morning on this street at this time, there would be the sound of children playing, hedge trimmers and leaf blowers, lawn mowers and dogs barking. The complete silence was unnerving.

  Lying in his front yard was a red bicycle. He recognized it as belonging to Jimmy. A ten year old from down the street.

  Then he noticed what looked like a discarded old blanket lying under the bushes by the front stoop. Looking closer he saw that it was his Black Lab Tyler. The fur was matted with blood and the body lay in a twisted grotesque pose. Tyler had met a violent end. John knew that he had died trying to protect his home. Something John couldn’t do. The guilt of not being home to protect them had been chewing at him sinc
e all this began. If he survived this, that’s something he would have to live with the rest of his life. The fact that there was no way he could have known what was going to happen was of little comfort. He felt he should have been here.

  For a moment while he stood there a vision flashed through his mind. A child, the child he never had, was playing in the yard as he trimmed the hedges one more time before winter. Susan was sitting on the porch watching while she read the morning paper. Tyler rolled around in the grass with a tennis ball in his mouth. A tear ran down John’s face.

  “John,” Amy said quietly, “are you ok?”

  “I’m fine, just thinking,” he said.

  He started toward the porch again. Stacked on the porch by the steps were seven bodies. They were placed in an alternating fashion with the heads of three to the left and the heads of the other four to the right.

  “Oh my God that smells bad?” Amy said. “This is the first time we’ve been this close to these body piles.”

  “Smells like more than just rotting flesh to me,” John said.

  “Yeah, smells like that plus… like, cat pee and vomit. You know?”

  “Right, I smell it. Skunky. Very pungent.”

  Continuing up to the top of the steps, they listened. All was quiet. The shotgun ready, the 9mm tucked in his waistband, slowly he crept toward the open door.

  To Amy he said in a whisper, “You stay here at the door, I’ll check the rooms on the first floor. When it’s safe you can come in while I check upstairs.”

  “Like I told you,” she said gesturing with a nod of her head for him to proceed, “I’ve got your back.”

  John stepped over the threshold. The inside of the house had been ransacked. The foyer was strewn with broken glass and other debris. Stepping to his left into the dining room he saw that the window had been busted inward. Glass and wood from the frame littered the floor. The table was upside down against the far wall and the chairs were scattered around the room.

  John heard a creak in the ceiling and froze. The sound traveled from one side of the room to the other. His first thought was that it could be Susan. He walked across the room and back out into the foyer. He looked at Amy and put his finger to his lips telling her to be quiet. He pointed up then at the stairs to let her know he was going up. She nodded and whispered that she heard it too.